


I won't let you leave my love behind

by oklahomieeee



Series: Florida [1]
Category: Midnight Cowboy (1969)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 11:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oklahomieeee/pseuds/oklahomieeee
Summary: They made it. Joe Buck and Rico Rizzo made it to Florida.





	I won't let you leave my love behind

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the classic "Everybody's Talkin'" by Harry Nilsson.
> 
> Hi. I started writing this back in December just after I had watched the movie and read the book. Although this fic is mostly based on the movie I may have put some elements from the book in there. Don't worry if you haven't read the book, I don't think it really matters when it comes to this fic :)
> 
> Before I let you go, English is not my first language so beware of the mistakes I may have made and not been able to spot! Also, uh, realism, I don't know her. Lastly, I really hope you enjoy this fic.
> 
> Edited (06/01/20)

“Don’t mention it,” the bus driver said with a nod down at them before closing the door. “Alright, we’ll be at our destination in a couple of m-.” 

Joe Buck could still feel the eyes of the curious passengers when he turned from their transport. Their eyes stung the back of his neck. They had no idea of what had happened just some minutes ago, maybe they had a couple of ideas, just a little sickness, nothing to worry about, but, to them it didn’t really matter either, no, they were just another roadside attraction before their finale stop.

He held Ratso close to his chest. He was so light that what was left of him might as well have just been bones. Bones, a sweaty face and silence. Was he even alive? Was he breathing? “Don’t die on me boy,” he mumbled, “Not now that we’ve made it, shee-it, Ratso.”

“Everythin’s going to be fine,” he continued. His legs moved them up the stairs towards the hospital doors. “Don’t worry about no money. Doctors are gonna heal ya, don’t die on me.” 

They made him put his fragile body on a table which they sent through a set of white, swinging door. For a moment he imagined himself following them. He held Rico’s lifeless arm, repeating himself, telling him that everything was going to be okay. They were in Florida now. Don’t worry about the bills, I’ll get a job, no, I’m not going to do something dumb, shee-it, what do you take me for boy? We’ll be fine. 

“You kin of him?” 

He woke up. A nurse looked at him with question marks for eyes. She held a stack of forms. 

Joe nodded.

She handed him a form and a pen and sent him to the sofa by the entrance. He wrote his name at the top, making sure that it was readable and looked proper, but he had no place yet and no phone either. Joe put the form closer to his face, but his eyes were on the nurse who was busy with someone else. How did he tell them that?

His eyes were back on the paper and he crossed the boxes that seemed to fit. Rico’s history was unknown, no health insurance, he didn’t know any phone number of any siblings of Rico (nor names) but he knew he had some. Did he have communication difficulties? No, he spoke his mind when he pleased and he also listened. Did he need help going to the bathroom? Probably.

There was a mirror just above him, circle shaped, which showed who left and entered and he saw his hat-less head and new shirt and pants. This was him now and he didn’t need that mirror, he didn’t need it, he was his own man but still, the mirror was a reassurance. They were in Florida. He existed there now. He and Rat- Rico in Florida. Joe and Rico. Rico and Joe. Rico _, Rico, Rico, Rico, Rico._

It took him a day to find a place that would let him stay for the little cash left in his pockets, but only on the promise of him getting a job and he felt that the older lady pitied him, specially after he told her of the serious occasion. She shook her head and offered him some leftovers which were dry and tough. 

He went to the hospital a couple of hours later to inform them of his number and to ask about Rico but they told him that when he could visit, they’d call. The nurse from earlier looked at him one extra time with a question on her lips: “Blood relation?”. Something told him she already knew the answer.

He gave her one of them smiles lonesome New Yorkers liked and left. 

That night he was unable to sleep. It was too hot, even just in his underwear he was sweating like a pig. The thin sheets clung to his skin. For hours his eyes were stuck to an unfamiliar, pink ceiling. Insects hummed loudly outside and the occasional car passed by on the street. No harsh breathing. No sickening cough. No Rico. For the first time in months he felt alone.

Luck struck when his first job opportunity showed its face. He’d get to mow lawns. Something he hadn’t done since he’d been living with Sally Buck.

Mr. Collins was the man who put him to work. He was an elderly gentleman with a big mustache and a petite blond wife who winked at him from their porch. He nodded back at her with a smile and went over the lawn a couple of more times, making sure he did a good job and that he was milking every last drop of money he could from the couple. 

Mrs. Collins, in her bathrobe and pink bikini, handed him the payment herself and asked for a repeat work round the following week and offered to inform the neighbors of his availability. 

The call from the hospital came on a Wednesday. He’d just come home from work. Mr. Rizzo had woken up. He kicked off his work clothes, debated if showering was necessary, showered, stepped in some proper pants and put on the first shirt he’d bought when they had crossed state lines. 

The nurse gave him the room number. He hurried down an endless corridor to the door which hid Rico. For a couple of seconds he stood there and looked through the little window on the door. Rico was propped up against a couple of pillows with a newspaper in his lap. He looked to be a little better than when they had been on the road and perhaps cleaner than Joe had ever seen him. None of that bitter New York grime covered him, but the washing had made his sickly skin more apparent. 

He pushed the door open and smiled wide when Rico’s eyes met his. He didn’t express much but he seemed to soften. Joe took one step over the ledge, then another towards the hospital bed and then another and another, as quickly as he could and finally he hugged Rico carefully against himself. Rico was still so thin but he was there. For a second he feared that if he let go of his friend he’d disappear forever.

Rico protested but let himself be hugged. The paper fell off his lap but neither cared.

His dark hair was soft against Joe’s nose. Rico had none of that smell now. He smelled like soap and hospital. 

“Alright, alright,” Rico said and patted him carefully on the chest to make him let go. Joe helped him sit properly before finding himself a seat in the visitor’s chair. He picked up the paper and handed it back to his friend. “There are others here ya know,” Rico continued. He laid back in the pillows and breathed in carefully, his chest rising slowly. Whatever life had been leaving his eyes on the bus was slowly returning. 

To Joe’s surprise there were two other residents in the room. An older fellow and a young boy who had both of his feet bandaged. Their eyes were on them. Joe nodded politely at them and closed the curtains, giving them some privacy. He sat back down. 

“I thought you were dead Ratso,” Joe said with a wide smile covering his entire face. “Shee-it, I thought you left me without saying goodbye.”

Rico hit him with the rolled up newspaper. “Its Rico, not Ratso, we talked about this. In Florida I’m Rico.”

“Yeah yeah, Rico,” Joe said and put his hands up in a mock defense. “Rico, Rico, Rico.” 

Rico sent him an unimpressed look. His forehead prickled with sweat. His eyelids seemed heavy.

“You need to get me out of here.”

“Get you out of here? I just got you in here,” Joe replied his mood turning a bit sour. “In here you’re getting better, boy.”

Rico looked at him as if he was dumb, but staying seemed smarter than leaving. Leaving meant certain death for Rico or at least for the time being.

“Cowboy, being here is a luxury we can’t afford and -”

“I got work,” Joe replied before Rico could start his rant. It closed his mouth tight. Rico looked at him searching. Then he bit his lip and his eyes softened. “I’m done with that,” Joe said quietly, making sure the other patients didn’t hear. 

“You got work,” Rico stated. 

“I mow lawns.”

“Mowing lawns ain’t gonna cut it fella,” Rico said and looked at Joe who cracked a small smile at the pun.

“I know that. I ain’t dumb,” Joe said turning serious. “Now, you don’t be worrying about that. All you gotta do is get better. I’m handling the money.”

“The money? We don’t have any money Joe. There’s no money to handle, and,” Rico said holding up a finger as if it strengthened his arguments, “For every second I’m here. The longer you’ll be stuck with- the worse we’ll be off. We’ll be stuck in debt until you lose all your hair.”

“I ain’t going to go bald, boy, shee-it,” Joe argued, “and as I said, I got it handled. So stop talking this crazy talk, we ain’t in no trouble. We ain’t ending up in no debt.”

“You’re too optimistic Joe,” Rico said, wetted his lips and sighed, seeming suddenly very tired. His head was sinking further and further into the soft pillows.

“You need to rest now?” Joe asked but it felt more like a statement.

His friend replied in weak nods and opened his mouth to say something but the words wouldn’t leave him. Then he gave Joe a pained look. Blinked a couple of times.

“Hey, hey now,” Joe said and moved from the chair to the bed which dipped a little. “What you crying for? We’re in Florida.” He looked over to Rico’s tiny bedside table where they’d left a small box with kleenex. He took one and wiped Rico’s brows. His forehead felt warm underneath his hand. 

“I ain’t crying,” Rico said. His eyelids fluttered. He sucked in a deep breath. It sounded worryingly familiar.

“Sure looked like you was going to.” Joe wiped some sweat from his nose.

“Well I wasn’t,” Rico said but he sounded unsteady. 

“Alright, you wasn’t,” Joe replied. He looked around for a wastebasket but there was none, so he put the kleenex in his pocket. 

A silence fell over them. One of the other patients coughed loudly. 

“It’s just that.” Rico looked past Joe, to the curtains, and hesitated. His eyes fell back on Joe then he looked out the window. “We’re in Florida,” he said. “I can see a palm tree from my window. I can see the sun. It shines all day. There’ve been no rainy days since we got here. Can you believe that?”

No rain. The thought had not occurred to Joe. Of course he’d felt the heat but he had not spent much time thinking about the weather. “How do you know that?” Joe asked. 

“Nurses told me,” Rico said but quickly moved on. “We’re in Florida. Palm trees. Sun. No rain, and here I am.” It didn’t sound like he believed a single, shaky, word coming out of his mouth. “Here we are Joe and I’m sick, my chest hurts, my legs hurt and just outside my window is Florida, but I can’t.” He paused struggling to find the right words before letting out a short frustrated sight. “I can’t, Joe. I can’t.”

There were tears in the corners of Rico’s eyes. He blinked a couple of times and avoided Joe’s concerned gaze, instead choosing to look up at the ceiling and out the window while sinking lower into the thin, white sheets. 

“Well I,” Joe started carefully, looking at Rico’s hands which were shaking a little. They looked clean too. No dirt under the nails. He felt like cradling one in his own hands. Keeping one safe in between his own. Warming it. Perhaps it could reassure his friend. Everything would be alright. Like he’d been thinking and saying like a mantra since he’d punched Towny’s teeth out. “You ain’t staying in here forever now are you?” Joe said, choosing what he was going to say next with care. “I’ll tell you what, boy.” Their eyes were on each other again. “When you get well enough we’ll ask one of them nurses for a chair. You see, just a block or so from here is a little bar. We go down there and I’ll buy you all the coconut milk they got there. Now what do you think of that?” 

Rico stayed silent. For a second Joe started worrying he’d said something wrong. Then there was a tiny smile on his friend’s lips. 

“That sounds nice, Joe,” he finally said. 

Joe let out a short relieved breath and was about to reach out to squeeze Rico’s hand, to touch him, just making sure they were both there, but it quickly disappeared before he made contact. It went up to Rico’s mouth as he started coughing. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have some ideas for more chapters. It would involve some Rizzo siblings. I just don't know if anyone would be interested in that. This is it for now though.


End file.
